Dressed to Kill

Still night chilled the waiting figure as her lips pulled again on a cigarette. Shivering in the moon lit bus shelter; her mind was focused only on getting away. Away from the drudgery; the endless repetition of work’ the dreary scheme, the scruff she had to deal with. ‘Tomorrow,’ she thought. ‘It will be all different.’

It was not long before a bus came and went. Julie waited in indecision.

The cold was right through her flimsy attire when she saw the car approaching. She stubbed the cigarette into the waste bin and pulled at her fish net tights.

The car slowed and pulled into the bus stop. The passenger window lowered and white teeth appeared in the gloom.

‘You ready?’ said the driver.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Julie.

‘Course you are. You’ll be fine,’ said the driver.

The girl got in the passenger seat.

‘It’s the first time I’ve done this,’ said Julie.

‘Well it probably won’t be the last,’ said the driver.

‘Well, we’ll see,’ said Julie.

‘No doubt about it. Relax and enjoy,’ said the driver checking his weapon.

‘Yeah. I’m not really a uniformed type,’ said Julie checking hers.

About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
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